


Tough To Talk To

by Meduseld



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: And Buck's general issues, Angry Sex, Eddie's canon anger issues, M/M, Making Up, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meduseld/pseuds/Meduseld
Summary: Eddie and Buck work it out. Physically.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 444





	Tough To Talk To

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](https://911-kink-meme.livejournal.com/1049.html?thread=10521#t10521) on the 9-1-1 Kink Meme. Let’s pretend this is what happened instead of the hug in the Halloween episode.

The itch under his skin is back, throbbing painfully with every step he takes.

Eddie knows the best way to get rid of it, for a while anyway, but he can’t go back to fighting. Not right now, with the team so fragile and Christopher still so clingy, burned by someone else vanishing from his life.

Even if Buck did come back.

If he’s honest, he’d admit to himself that one good solid movie punch, right at Buck’s face, would be the thing to make him feel better. For about half a second, before it all came crashing down on him.

He’s full of nameless, aimless fury and he’s still horrified at the thought of hurting Buck, no matter how cheerfully Buck’s hurt him. Them.

Even if he’s back now, apologizing, saying he didn’t mean it.

It doesn’t magically make it okay, does nothing to lance the hard boil of pain that’s been pushing up behind Eddie’s breastbone.

He feels like a dog without a collar, ready to snap and rend and tear.

So he ignores Buck’s hopeful looks and Bobby’s raised eyebrows and the way Chim and Hen are starting to treat him like he’s radioactive.

He feels like he is. His life wouldn’t have gone the way it did if he wasn’t.

Even Abuela gives him a pretty serious _look_ when he drops Chris off for a sleepover.

She’s tried to ask him about Buck, more than once, and Eddie’s evasion skills can’t hold out forever, military training or no.

Even though the idea of explaining, of referring to Buck as an ex-friend, as an ex-anything, makes him want to put his fist through something all over again.

Anything to take away the bitter taste of bile in his mouth at the thought.

If he stays angry, he doesn’t have to feel the rest of it, the weight of being dumped cold by someone he trusted. Even dogs learn, but apparently Eddie doesn’t.

Christopher is already sleepy, subdued, when Eddie hands him over to Abuela. He’s been clingy lately, asking to be picked up more than he should. And Abuela isn’t as strong as blonde firefighter that his mind keeps circling, a dog snapping at its own tail.

It’s only the thought of Christopher, looking at him as he left, that keeps him from doing something stupid.

Like going downtown and behind a fence to turn someone else’s face to mush.

Chris had been looking at him the way he had when he’d found out his mother really had gone, the first time, like he was bracing to never see Eddie again.

If he goes and fights, he knows there’s a chance he won’t make it back, won’t come out on top, no matter what the monster in his chest is screaming.

He can’t do that, can’t take the one parent his son has left, because there’s no one else. Not really.

Before he would have been sure Buck would be there, would fight his way through a natural disaster for his kid, the way he already had.

So fuck him all over again for this, for all of it, for the way Eddie still has trouble sleeping, some nights, dreaming that they never got him out from under that truck.

He’s not sorry that they did, even with all the grief that came after.

So he’s going to go home and drink a six-pack by himself and then jerk-off as roughly as he can stand without thinking about _anybody_. He might actually manage it this time.

Especially with how keyed-up he feels, pissed off from the lack of Christopher and the knowing smirk he might have imagined on the store clerk on his beer run because he doesn’t keep alcohol in the house for about a thousand reasons.

It’s the same kid that always works the register the night before Eddie’s day off and maybe it’s just his own paranoia that the kid has noticed him coming in more, always buying beer, laughing at him behind those braces bursting out of his lips, surrounded by pimply skin under small eyes.

Sometimes Eddie wants to just shout at him that he has no idea who Eddie is or what he’s been through, what life can do to you, but he always remembers that would just make him sound like his dad and the kid wouldn’t listen anyway. He didn’t.

Funny that Eddie used to smile at him, when came in before, when the beer was for him and Buck, which lasted a lot longer because they would only ever have a couple; they had Chris and Buck might have to drive.

Buck had been staying over more, no longer bothering with an excuse. And Eddie had liked it.

Buck across the hall in the guest room, Eddie in bed, thinking about getting up and walking over. Slipping between the sheets. Almost sure he’d be welcome.

And then everything had, pretty literally, blown up.

At least last time, with Shannon, he’d had a clue that things were bad. That they were heading somewhere they couldn’t come back from. He’d been so sure about what was going to happen with Buck. Life just loved to pull the rug out from under him.

Eddie is gnawing at his lower lip, feeling like a match balancing over a can of gasoline.

Something as small as fumbling with his keys right now could set him off and he can’t stop it, can’t fix himself, doesn’t know how to drain this feeling except driving his fist into another body.

So it’s good that he’ll be locked away and alone and numbing himself, neutralized until tomorrow. Because tomorrow he has to be a father and a firefighter and a friend again, even if he feels like his own skin fits too tight.

He’s so focused on convincing himself he doesn’t notice that the lights are already on, Buck’s car parked down the block.

Until the door opens to easily and he looks up into Buck’s worried face, arms wrapped around himself as he lurks in Eddie’s kitchen like a desolate ghost.

The part of Eddie that’s good, that one that made Christopher, immediately wants to know what’s wrong and how to fix it.

The bad part, howling in outrage, wants to hurl the cans right at his stupid, beautiful, teary face. How _dare he_.

“Get out” he growls, mechanically lowering the grocery story bag, cheerfully embossed with messages to get him to _come back soon!_ , right onto the floor.

He doesn’t trust himself right now. Or the stubborn look in Buck’s eyes that can only mean some crazy shit is incoming.

It used to thrill him, not piss him off.

“No” Buck says, shaking his head. “Not until you talk to me. You can tell me you hate me, never want to see me again, but you have to _tell me_ ” he says, sounding on the edge of tears.

If Eddie weren’t so tired, so heartsick and grief poisoned, he would have used his words.

Said something about how clearly therapy wasn’t really working for him, or that that was rich, coming from him, who wouldn’t even tell Eddie where he grew up beyond a very general _Pennsylvania_.

But he’s not in any fit state for that, his already strained control fraying wildly.

“Get. _Out_ ” he grinds out already looming into Buck’s space, fists curling, heart pumping with the adrenaline. His veins are singing, happy to _finally_ be in a fight.

“No” Buck says, sounding sure of himself again, “I am done waiting, we’re gonna talk and-” but Eddie never finds out what else because he’s slamming his hands down on the metal counter on either side of Buck, who feels trapped enough to push at his chest and everything ignites.

They’re on each other, rough and ready, rolling and tumbling through Eddie’s house like they don’t care about the damage.

Eddie doesn’t, not to the furniture anyway, shoving everything out of the way.

He loves this, and Buck’s here, solid and smelling like Buck and his hindbrain is happier than it’s ever been.

Buck holds his own, for a while anyway, because some part of Eddie isn’t going for the jugular. But he’s still weak from blood thinners and physio, and Eddie’s actually seen combat.

Eddie pins him down, growling in his face, thighs moving to keep his legs down, the way he’s been trained. And that’s when he feels it.

The solid line of Buck pressing hard and hot against him, probably already leaking into his boxers.

“Seriously?” Eddie says, not managing to sound disgusted, just trying to remember all the instructors assuring them that it was normal, just a physical reaction, not some confession or anything that has any meaning at all.

Buck’s eyes go mean and hurt all at once.

His leg slides up, not to shove Eddie off no matter how distracted he clearly is, but to rub against Eddie himself, rock hard in jeans and oblivious until the hard muscle of Buck’s thigh makes his mouth flood with want.

Eddie presses in hard, half angry and wanting to stay in charge and half just horny and needy.

Buck tries for his face and Eddie dodges, shoving himself hard against Buck’s neck and biting down. He yelps and arches and Eddie doesn’t know what the roiling feeling inside him is, beyond the fact that Buck’s body has the answer for it.

“I wanna” he says even though he has no clue what he means, hands working with a mind of their own to peel down Buck’s pants and rub his hard, jean covered crotch against him, drinking in Buck’s hiss at the harsh fabric where he’s most sensitive.

Buck squirms against him, hands fluttering between them, and for a moment Eddie thinks he’s pushing him away, that he’s crossed a line he can’t walk back, until he realizes Buck’s just trying to get at his back pocket and the wallet pinned between him and the floor.

Eddie lifts him up by the hips, something in him both soothed and stoked by how Buck arches to match him.

He cops a feel as his other hand reaches into for the wallet, opening it with his thumb as his other fingers press hard against Buck’s firm, ladder and PT toned ass. Inside, there’s almost no cash or cards, just new and ready to use condoms and packets of lube.

“You goddamn _slut_ ” Eddie says, not sounding as angry as he’d like. Buck glares right back: “Do you wanna fuck me or not?” he demands and all of Eddie’s body grows hot while his cock throbs.

He’d thought about this happening. He never imagined it would be like this.

It makes him almost unsure and angry all over again. Anger always comes easiest to him.

Eddie stands and launches a silvery packet of lube right at Buck’s abs, peeking out where his shirt has ridden up. He kicks at the heel of Buck’s good leg, spreading him open.

“You better prep yourself because that’s all you’re getting” he says, enjoying the way Buck scrambles for the packet, trying to keep his eyes, his open panting mouth on Eddie as he kicks his own shoes and jeans off, jerking himself to full hardness.

The condom is cold when it goes on, making his arms break out in goosebumps. It’s good that it cools him off a little, makes sure he doesn’t come with the way Buck’s pupils go wide and deep dark.

He still grabs the base of his cock, keeping himself at bay, and maybe showing off just a little, making sure it bobs against his stomach, red and throbbing even through the latex.

Buck is trying to keep his eyes on it even as his throat works, pushing his neck back. He only pulled off one leg of his pants, too eager, or worried that Eddie wouldn’t let him finish to get the other.

He’s two fingers and three knuckles deep, already red and straining, shiny with lube and precome leaking onto his middle. Some distant part of Eddie notes that it’s still going to hurt, just a little, when he pushes in, that Buck might need more time.

The other can feel their breathing synching up and knows there’s no more time at all.

“Enough” he growls and bats Buck’s hand away. He gives in so easy that Eddie knows they’re in the same place, the same want, the last of his lingering guilt soothed.

At least until the flash of hurt in the little blue left in his eyes when Eddie flips him over, draws him up on his knees. He doesn’t know if he can look at Buck’s face right now.

For a second he’s almost spoiled for choice, the long milky expanse of Buck’s bare back too much like a paradise, like a whole world that Eddie wants to wander and explore and mark as his.

But he’s too focused on the fire between his legs, deep in his gut and the way Buck’s hips are already starting to push back on their own, making Eddie so crazy he could swallow the sun if he had to.

He isn’t sure which of them, maybe both of them, moans when Eddie presses in.

Buck still feels tight, a little too tense, but he’s enjoying himself from the little noises he’s making.

Eddie doesn’t give him any quarter, snapping his hips as roughly as he can manage, making them both inch forward on the floor, so sweaty they’re almost like ice cubes skittering along. Only Eddie’s hands seem to hold them steady, digging into Buck’s flesh.

It feels good, Buck all around him, his skin so perfect and Eddie’s just angry all over again.

They’ve lost so much _time_. They could have had this all along and picnics and dates and taking his kid to school.

Instead there’s only this, ugly and satisfying on the fucking floor and probably the only time.

He doesn’t have the words for the heady mix of passion and grief so he just sinks his teeth into Buck’s shoulder, his neck, enjoying the way he gasps and tries to crane back to reach Eddie’s lips.

It’s then that he realizes there’s a small tremor coming from Buck now, not the good kind, and his breathing’s a little off and _fuck_ his leg must hurt under him.

There’s no conscious thought to it, nothing but the repetition bred instinct to care for Buck when he refuses to do it for himself, to tap out when he’s down.

It’s the only thing in his head, beyond _yes he feels so good, fuck,_ when Eddie nips at the round end of Buck’s shoulder, hard, and takes advantage of Buck’s startling at the distraction to pull out and flip him over.

There’s a sick satisfaction to the punched out groan and look of open mouthed surprise on Buck’s face when Eddie pushes back in, _hard_ , before he’s fully realized what happened.

It’s good, it’s so insanely perfect, driving into him and watching Buck’s always expressive face show just how much he likes it, likes _Eddie_ , just as drunk on the skin and being almost on the wrong side of pain.

His nails are digging into Eddie’s shoulders, scraping down his chest, leaving marks of his own.

To keep them there, Eddie’s hand moves on its own again, lifting Buck’s bad leg over his hip, onto his back where he can anchor it firmly, keep him safe and alright. The way he always does. Always wants to.

Looking down at Buck’s face, breathing the same air, those lips slick with spit and want, Eddie almost does something stupid.

Until Buck does something stupider.

One of his hands creeps down, reaching for the part of him that’s hard and red and leaking between them and Eddie sees red.

He grabs both of Buck’s wrists, pinning them over his head with a growl, driving in as deep as he can manage. Buck gasps against his face, flushing.

“You honestly think you’re gonna get to come from anything but my cock inside you?” Eddie says, hiking Buck’s shirt the rest of the way up, beyond his elbows, making sure he can’t move his arms.

Not that he couldn’t wriggle free if he wanted to. But neither of them want him to.

He knows that much.

Eddie can’t look away from his face when he starts back up again, torturing him this time with long, slow thrusts, pressing his whole body against Buck’s.

Buck whines and mewls, the flush traveling down his neck and chest, fat pink tongue moving faster and faster over his lips. Like he wants to be kissed.

Eddie is half bending down before he realizes, Buck moving up to meet him, instead getting a sharp nip to the corner of his jaw instead.

It’s a little red mark Eddie can’t resist soothing, just a little, with the flat of his tongue.

Eddie moves down his neck, Buck moving up to meet him, his perfect match in this too, squeezing around his cock like he was born for it.

“Why’d you have to do that, huh?” he can hear himself say, “why’d you have to leave?” surprised when Buck shakes his head because he somehow heard the whisper too.

“Didn’t, Eddie, I _didn’t_ ” Buck says, voice rough and sex soaked, wincing a little at how Eddie’s thumbs tighten on his hips.

There’s no way he won’t bruise, even if he wasn’t on blood thinners, no way he won’t feel Eddie absolutely everywhere tomorrow.

“Just wanted to get back, back to _you-_ ” he cuts off with a little gasp at Eddie’s too rough thrust on the word.

There’s a thin line of tears clinging to his lashes, making him somehow more beautiful. It should be a crime, what he does to Eddie.

“I _swear_ , all I wanted was-” and then Eddie can’t take anymore, shoving his tongue as deep as it will go into Buck’s mouth, just as rough as his cock inside Buck himself, who takes everything Eddie gives him and begs for more.

“This some sort of fucked up apology?” Eddie huffs into his neck, when he finally needs air again, coming closer to the edge by the second, like he isn’t the one who started this.

Buck shakes his head again, trembling from how close he is too, this time.

“Want this. Always did. Didn’t think- God, _Eddie_ ” and he’s moaning again, hips thrusting back erratically, trying to get there on his own.

“Then do this for me” Eddie says with a slower, longer thrust, making sure to rub his stomach on Buck’s trapped, desperate cock.

“C’mon baby, I know you can, be good for me, you can do this, just come baby” and Buck _does_.

His face breaks open, shatters, wide and pink, spending between them, hot and sticky. He tenses all around Eddie, and that’s all it takes.

One and a half shaky thrusts and Eddie is coming too, face hidden against Buck’s neck as he shivers through it.

He tries not to dump all his weight on Buck, suddenly too aware of how easily he could hurt him. Like he’s not already going to be fighting off a limp tomorrow.

Eddie runs his hand over his face, reminding himself he’s inflicted far worse on himself than just prying his body off of Buck’s warm bare chest.

And that he’s fine. Physically anyway.

He feels great and the itch is gone, the anger sated, all of it buried under Buck’s skin.

It’s still hard to move away, especially with the way Buck’s fingers have starting moving against his scalp and down his back.

Somehow, he manages to stand and peel what little sweat and cum stained clothing he has on.

With a wince he gets rid of the condom, too, ambling to the nearest bin and back to Buck in moments. Eddie doesn’t want him out of sight right now.

“Alright. Can you stand?” he says at Buck where he’s still sprawled on the floor, cock giving an interested twitch at the way he’s staring.

He might not be sixteen anymore but it’s nice to know he’s still got it.

Buck’s distracted enough but Eddie’s naked everything to have to take a second to respond.

“Yeah” he says shaking his head like the golden retriever he so often gets compared to, usually by women they rescue. “I guess I’ll just go…” Buck adds, trying to leverage himself up on his palms, looking like he really is a lost puppy, and Eddie can’t help the eye roll.

“That’s a no” Eddie says, helping him stand and steadying him with a hand wrapped firmly around his elbow.

Buck leans on him more than he has to, clearly thinking he’s going to get pushed away at any second, wincing as he pulls whatever is left of his own ruined clothes off.

For a second Eddie thinks about picking up, then remembers the beer’s been sweating onto his floor the entire time and thinks that the whole thing can wait until tomorrow.

Buck lets Eddie pull him forward, without ever asking where they’re going.

Eddie could bet that if he said it was to an open grave he kept for just such an occasion Buck would just nod. He still trusts Eddie too much, making every protective instinct he has flare to life all over again, no matter how tired he is.

A whole shift, Buck returned, an upset kid, a hard lay and the loss of the flame of anger that spurred him through it all has him yawning as he maneuvers Buck into the shower and steps into the spray.

There’s no way either of them are getting into Eddie’s bed without getting hosed down first. And Buck is staying, even if Eddie has to tie him to the headboard.

Though judging by tonight, Buck would probably like that.

It’s a tight fit, but Buck doesn’t need to be pressed as close to Eddie’s chest as he is. Call it plausible deniability.

“Tilt” Eddie orders and Buck moves his head, lets Eddie rub shampoo into his scalp because he’s always wanted to and Buck isn’t complaining.

His cock twitches again at the thought of Buck smelling like him tomorrow, covered in Eddie’s marks, finally where he belongs.

Except for all the ways in which he doesn’t, and how this isn’t that.

Buck’s eyes go Disney princess devastated at the crease in his eyebrows Eddie can feel but can’t control at the thought. “

Are you still mad?” he says, tense all over again and Eddie just sighs. He’s too worn, down to the skin, to put up any pretense.

“I'm not mad, I'm...When you decided to sue the department, to make Cap the bad guy, did you ever stop for a minute to think what that could do to _us_?” Eddie says, because that’s the heart of it.

He wants to mean the team and part of him does, but that’s not what his heart says. What he’s been avoiding, the core of hurt he’s protected with snapping anger the way he always does.

Buck can sense the shift in mood and stumbles to justify himself, to explain, to not be dismissed, discarded, again.

“Look, I just needed my job back. I missed” he swallows and Eddie’s thumb tracks the movement, the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“I missed being there. Being part of the team. Being with you. I never meant for anyone to get hurt…” he trails off, looking well and truly hurt and scared now.

It’s not a look Eddie likes on him. But if they’re going to say it, they’re going to say it all.

“Lotta "I"s in there. The thing is, your actions, your choices, they impact the rest of us. Me. That's what it means to be a part of a team” and _a relationship_ Eddie thinks but doesn’t say.

They’re running on adrenaline, him and Buck, and the sexual tension that’s always been there. But they’re crashing now, and hard. Time to face the music and survive until morning.

“You're right” Buck says, soft and Eddie’s eyebrows rise in time with Buck’s voice: “I didn't think about what could happen. I _never_ think. I was _mad_ at Bobby for not letting me back. I was _mad_ at you for moving on without me. I was _mad_ that there was nothing I could do about it. And I just. I just wanted to-”

“Punch someone?” Eddie fills in, knowing that feeling deep in his bones and marveling that Buck didn’t realize that Eddie felt the same way all along. No way to move on, no matter what it seemed like.

“Yeah, a little. But I get it. And I really am sorry. Whatever it takes for you to forgive me-” Buck’s voice cracks a little and Eddie is so relieved, so overcome by the now undeniable fact that whatever this was it wasn’t so fucked ploy at forgiveness, just the two of them being who they were, racing into a burning building together that it’s easy to say “I forgive you”.

Buck’s face opens, wide, remind Eddie of what he looks like when he comes.

Because now Eddie knows that looks like too.

“Also what it means to be part of a team” he adds and Buck lights up.

There’s something fun about teasing him, just a little, now that they know where they stand with each other again.

“Just don't do it again” he mock growls and Buck melts into him, smiling so hard Eddie’s eyes water just a little.

It’s the brightness of it, that’s all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [_Starring Role_ by Marina](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzMtejqwqZo), which was kind of Buck’s internal monologue, especially if things had taken a turn for the worse (but they got a happy ending instead, yay!).


End file.
